“Horrible!” ejaculated Claudius.

“No worse than making a hotel of Switzerland, which is an older and more interesting monument than the castle of Heidelberg.”

“Epigrammatic, but fallacious, Mr. Barker.”

“Epigrams and proverbs are generally that.”

“I think,” said Claudius, “that proverbs are only fallacious when they are carelessly applied.”

“Very likely.  Life is too short to waste time over weapons that will only go off in some singular and old-fashioned way.  When I start out to do any shooting, I want to hit.”

So they went to dinner.  Claudius found himself becoming gayer in the society of his new acquaintance than he had been for some time past.  He could not have said whether he liked him or thought him interesting, but he had a strong impression that there was something somewhere, he could not tell what, which Mr. Barker understood thoroughly, and in which he might show to great advantage.  He felt that however superficial and unartistic the American might be, he was nevertheless no fool.  There was something keen and sharp-edged about him that proclaimed a character capable of influencing men, and accustomed to deal boldly and daringly with life.

They dined as well as could be expected in a country which is not gastronomic, and Mr. Barker produced a rare brand of cigars, without which, he informed his guest, he never travelled.  They were fat brown Havanas, and Claudius enjoyed them.

“Let us go to Baden-Baden,” said Barker, sucking at his weed, which protruded from his immense moustache like a gun under the raised port-hole of an old-fashioned man-of-war.

“If I were seeking innocent recreation from my labours, that is not exactly the spot I would choose to disport myself in,” replied Claudius.  “The scenery is good, but the people are detestable.”

“I agree with you; but it is a nice place for all that.  You can always gamble to pass the time.”

“I never play games of chance, and there is no play in Baden now.”

“Principle or taste, Professor?”

“I suppose I must allow that it is principle.  I used to play a little when I was a student; but I do not believe in leaving anything to fortune.  I would not do it in anything else.”

“Well, I suppose you are right; but you miss a great deal of healthy excitement.  You have never known the joys of being short of a thousand N.P. or Wabash on a rising market.”

“I fear I do not understand the illustration, Mr. Barker.”

“No?  Well, it is not to be wondered at.  Perhaps if you ever come to New York you will take an interest in the stock market.”

“Ah—­you were referring to stocks?  Yes, I have read a little about your methods of business, but that kind of study is not much in my line.  Why do you say Baden, though, instead of some quiet place?”

“I suppose I like a crowd.  Besides, there are some people I know there.  But I want you to go with me, and if you would rather not go to Baden-Baden, we can go somewhere else.  I really think we ought to become better acquainted, and I may prevail on you to go with me to New York.”